


In Media Res

by wintergrey



Series: Vade Mecum [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintergrey/pseuds/wintergrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In the middle of things.</i>
</p><blockquote>
  <p>“No shoes.” Sam gropes Steve’s ass with his free hand. “Shoes just lead to trouble. You get feeling all independent, think you can do things without me, end up in a block of ice for seventy years. I finally get you back and even Viagra can’t help me out.”</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	In Media Res

Saturday morning. Bliss. Steve’s sprawled in Sam’s bed, one hand splayed on Sam’s belly, feeling him breathe. Enthusiastic morning sunlight reaches in around the blinds—this almost counts as sleeping in. Steve is terrible at it, he’s a five-thirty in the morning kind of guy, but he and Sam are working on it.

Sam gives him plenty of reason to stay in bed, which is why Steve wriggles a little closer to kiss him on the shoulder. Sam is beautiful when he’s sleeping. Even more beautiful when Steve wakes him up the right way. He trails his fingers down Sam’s silky brown belly to his navel.

“Crap,” Sam mumbles, nearly elbowing Steve as he throws an arm over his face. “We’re out of milk.”

Steve laughs into the pillows. “Are you awake?” he whispers, not wanting to wake Sam if he’s talking in his sleep again. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Yeah,” Sam says grudgingly. “We’re out of milk, I forgot. I meant to get it last night but something distracted me.”

“My fault. I’ll go.” Steve pushes himself up on one arm but Sam nudges him over onto his back instead of letting him get up.

“Nuhuh.” Sam kisses him on the mouth. “See, I know you. I let you go get milk, HYDRA attacks you while you’re wandering around on your own, you kick ass, the press shows up, and the cops, there’s reports to fill out, I’m left sitting at home with cold black coffee and, well… the consequences of not having your fine ass here with me.”

“You don’t even trust me to go to the store?” It’s impossible to be offended with Sam’s warm, bare body on his.

“Nope. Already suffered through two whole days without you this week.” Sam tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair and tugs gently to get him at the perfect angle for another kiss. “I will, however,” he says magnanimously, “let you make the coffee while I’m gone. I will even let you have your jeans. But no shoes.”

“No shoes?” Steve mock-pouts at Sam and gets a laugh out of him.

“No shoes.” Sam gropes Steve’s ass with his free hand. “Shoes just lead to trouble. You get feeling all independent, think you can do things without me, end up in a block of ice for seventy years. I finally get you back and even Viagra can’t help me out.”

“That was one time, man. Damn. Slip up saving the world once and suddenly you’re unreliable.” Steve nuzzles Sam’s nose with his own, then kisses it. “So unfair. Besides, I could think of at least one thing that would be better if you didn’t have any teeth.”

Sam laughs so hard he has to put his head down on Steve’s chest.

“I’m just saying.” Steve tries not to laugh as well but it’s a losing battle. “Not complaining. They’re kind of sharp sometimes is all.”

“Hey, if you don’t like how I do it,” Sam manages to say once he breathes. “You can do it yourself.”

“I can’t.” Steve stops laughing long enough to give Sam a sad face, but it doesn’t last. “Nat says I’m one hundred percent beefcake, zero percent flexibility. I’m lucky I can tie my own shoes.”

“They didn’t include that in the superpower package?” Sam rolls off him, still laughing. “Man, you’d think they’d have thrown that in as thanks for your service to your country. How can they say you’re a superman if you can’t do that?”

“Don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin the whole Captain America image. People look up to me.” Steve flops onto his belly but it’s only so he can enjoy the view as Sam bends to sort his clothes out from Steve’s where they’re strewn all over the floor.

“You’d think as Captain America, a little tooth action wouldn’t phase you.” Sam tosses Steve’s jeans his way and they smack him in the face. “Man, I’ve seen you get run over by a car and get up and you’re whining about the way I suck dick.”

“I’m off-duty,” Steve protests, moving his jeans so he can still see. “And I’m a sensitive guy. What can I say?”

“How about this.” Sam turns around, clothes in his hands. “I’ll go get milk. You make the coffee. And when I get back you show me how to do it right?”

“Seems fair.” Steve starts wriggling into his jeans. “I could see my way clear to giving you some pointers.”

“There we go.” Sam leans over and kisses him on the mouth. “Do those up before I decide to inflict my terrible technique on you right now.”

“I could totally suffer through—”

“Nope, you complained. Do ‘em up, I have my pride.” Sam waits for Steve to do just that, then he gets to pulling on his own clothes, boxers first. “When I get back I’ll take notes and then you can find out for yourself whether I’ve learned anything.”

“I’ve been told I’m an excellent teacher.” Not that Steve’s been graded on teaching that in particular, but he’s pretty good at demonstrating other skills. He sits up to help Sam with his jeans, for some value of helping that includes nuzzling Sam’s boxers before actually zipping up his fly.

“I can say I have never wanted to get schooled quite this badly,” Sam admits. Steve can tell, even through the worn denim of his jeans. “But. I’m a man of my word. I’ll go get the milk.”

“And I’ll make your coffee.” Steve pulls Sam closer with both hands on his ass so that he can kiss Sam’s belly until Sam pulls down his shirt.

“This is why we’re perfect for each other.” Sam bends to kiss him on the mouth. “Division of labour. Shared resources. Both extremely hot.”

“And I love you.” Steve kisses him back, then lets Sam pull him to his feet.

“We both love me. See, synchronicity,” Sam says sagely. That lasts all of three seconds before he laughs and kisses Steve once more, hot and fast. “Love you, too, baby. Don’t miss me too much.”

“I will,” Steve lets him go. “Miss you too much, I mean. Your wallet’s on the dresser.”

“Got it. And phone.” Sam tucks those into his pockets while he shoves his feet into his sneakers. “Be good while I’m gone,” he says on his way out.

“I’ll be better when you get back,” Steve calls after him.

There’s very little good about Sam being gone except that it lets Steve clean house. Laundry is one of his favourites. He’s not ever going to get tired of seeing his clothes all jumbled up with Sam’s in the basket—not that he’d admit that to anyone, he doesn’t expect them to get it. It’s just so normal. And real.

Steve uses his phone to tune the sound system into an internet radio station before he even gets out of the bedroom and the apartment fills with the Temptations— _Ain’t Too Proud To Beg_. Couldn’t be more right. He makes the bed, sorts the laundry for a run to the machines, sets up the coffee, puts away last night’s dishes.

He’s expecting Sam back any minute but that could be just wishful thinking, with Jill Scott crooning _Cross My Mind_ in the background. She might as well be singing about Sam right now. Steve turns his phone over in his hands while he contemplates texting to find out where Sam’s at but he resists. Doesn’t want to interrupt if Sam’s driving.

A noise at the door has him halfway down the hall in a heartbeat, phone back in his pocket—Sam’s home. Sam says it’s like having the world’s biggest golden retriever waiting for him. Steve’s not even remotely insulted.

He pops the door open, one hand on the frame and one on the knob, braced just in case—just in case he needs to fight off whoever’s on the other side. He hates that those thoughts can’t ever be far from his mind, even here in Sam’s home.

“Took you—” he’s saying brightly as his mind is processing the person standing there as… not Sam but almost Sam. The gentleman at the door is a little short of Sam-height, similar skin tone and face shape, but cropped hair going silver and silver in his full beard. No question who it is. Steve steps back a pace. “Mr. Wilson.”

“Yes. It is.” Sam’s dad looks Steve over and suddenly Steve is very much aware that he just answered the door—Sam’s door—in nothing but a pair of jeans and what’s probably a terrible case of bedhead. “I take it Sam’s out.”

“Yes, sir, he’s at the store.” Steve recovers because his mother raised him right and, frankly, there’s nothing else to do at this point. “Would you like to come in?”

“That’s not necessary. Sam’s mother and I are in town for the weekend and we thought we’d surprise him, take him out for brunch.” Sam’s dad gives Steve a quick smile. “Seems we should have called first. If you’d let him know? We’ll be at the usual place.”

“I’ll let him know right now, sir.” Steve pulls his phone out with numb fingers.

“Thank you very much.” Sam’s dad turns away, then pauses to look over his shoulder. “Do remind him that his mother and I are always happy to include his friends, will you?”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Steve closes the door and slumps against it. Good thing he knows his way around the phone in his sleep. He dials Sam’s number.

“Yo,” Sam says cheerily. “Miss me?”

“Are you driving?” Steve just wants to avoid any other disasters.

“On the way to the car. Everyone in this damn town is out of milk.” Sam laughs, resigned. His keys jingle—Steve can see them in his mind’s eye, the way Sam tosses them so they land in his hand with the key he wants on top. “Picked up a few other things as well. Found those cookies you keep looking for, just out of the blue. Those Salerno ones. Coming straight home to keep my lucky streak going.”

“Speaking of out the the blue.” Steve slides down to sit on the floor, runs a hand through his hair. “Your parents are in town.”

“How do you kn—” Sam stops talking so abruptly it’s as though the call is cut off, then he’s back. “No, no, no, that did not just happen.”

“Hey, upside though, I met your dad.” Steve points out. “I’m guessing you didn’t tell them about us.”

Sam is cussing a blue streak, there’s swearing in the mix Steve’s never heard before. Creative stuff, too. Steve’s pretty sure he hears Sam kicking a tire as well. Last thing they need is for Sam to break something, especially himself.

“Sam,” Steve says gently. “Love.”

Sam stops swearing, then exhales slowly. “I didn’t tell them. No. Do you know how hard it is to explain you? Us?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s okay.” Steve wants to get up and run—he knows how to find the grocery store where Sam usually shops. If he were there, he could put his arms around Sam and tell him so in person. “Don’t worry about me. Just come on home.”

“Say that again.” Sam’s voice is so quiet now, Steve can hardly hear him. “The last part.”

“Come home,” Steve says again. “Come home to me.”

“Can’t be anything too bad so as long as I hear that at the end,” Sam says. He sounds like himself again. The car door slams, then the engine starts. “On my way, baby. Guess you’ll have to make good on that lesson later.”

 

 


End file.
